


In A Panic

by RiddleAfar (Snyuuk)



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2001), Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cremation scene, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Wakes & Funerals, sappy af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 18:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snyuuk/pseuds/RiddleAfar
Summary: Kyo's upset that Yuki never plans to stay the night.





	In A Panic

**Author's Note:**

> This was made in a little exchange from the Furuba discord after swapping a million and one headcanons. Fucking huge ass shout out to Kiri who made so lovely and gorgeous YukiKyo art here: 
> 
> http://kiridork.tumblr.com/post/182178386488/aurgh-dude-seriously-now-all-i-have-in-my-head
> 
> This is very LIGHTLY beta'd and I deeply apologize for any incoherencies that follow. This is also pretty sappy, probably so much so that it stretched the boundaries of what would be considered "in character." Whatever that means. 
> 
> BUT HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY KIRI. Though your actual present is much more idiotic, I hope this is something you can enjoy as you emerge deeper and deeper into the vortex of adulthood.

The first thing Kyo saw was Yuki’s back.

At first it didn’t register to Kyo. His first thought was that this morning was particularly bright—and maybe he’d slept in and missed his alarm.

When his eyes adjusted, however, and consciousness stabilized, he was almost struck by the expanse of skin. Pale and broad, and pushed to the edge of the futon. Kyo rolled onto his back, eyes peering open in the still-dark early morning. His apartment window was covered by tress, and even as the sun tried to pierce the horizon, all it left in Kyo’s room were layered shadows.

He rolled to his side to check the time, and was unsurprised to find that he had woken up a good half hour before his alarm was supposed to ring at 6:00AM. A nice discovery. Even though Kyo was an early-bird, there was still a luxury in being able to relax in bed a few more minutes before the day started.

It was particularly nice on mornings like these.

It was only a few moments later that Kyo rolled back into the orbit that Yuki omitted, even while sleeping soundly.

Yuki was faced towards the wall on Kyo’s futon. His back slowly filling with air, only to let it out in a soft, steady rhythm. For a moment, Kyo let his lazy morning eyes watch the subtle movements as if in a trance.

They were only a week into March, but Kyo’s small space heater did a good job at pushing away the cold in his tiny apartment. Even still, Yuki seemed to be contracted into himself, and his bare skin was bumpy with gooseflesh.

Without thinking, Kyo brought a hand to the skin. His pointer finger skated across in small curves on Yuki’s porcelain flesh, and something tugged at Kyo’s irritation when Yuki didn’t even stir. How deep of a sleeper was he, anyway?

Kyo raised himself up to peer over the peak of Yuki’s shoulder. His hands rested on either side of Yuki’s face in an awkward push-up as Kyo towered over him, wondering if the movement would jostle him at all.

It didn’t, and Yuki’s eyelids were pointedly shut, as if that’s how they always were.

Kyo took a moment to stare down at his boyfriend, at the relaxed features on Yuki’s face. At the sprawled and matted bed-head that was smushed against the pillow on one side. At the arms that rested by Yuki’s chest that slid into those large, smooth hands, that divided like rivers into his long fingers.

Kyo’s arms were starting to protest Kyo’s position, but he ignored it in favor of observing for just a bit longer. There was a dull thumping in his chest that felt like the futile gesture of hammering steel against a dirt pathway. It mixed with the uncharacteristic desire to lay back in bed and go back to sleep.

Yuki let out a stuttering breath out his nose, but still gave no indication of waking up. With lazily narrowed eyes, Kyo blew a soft gust of air into Yuki’s face. No reaction.

So Kyo lowered himself only slightly, enough to rest his forehead on Yuki’s shoulder.

If his lips pressed against the skin, too, Kyo would say the action was involuntary.

Quietly, he picked himself up and dressed for his morning run. He pulled the covers of the futon up to Yuki’s neck, and without any further dawdling, Kyo left the apartment in a jog.

 

——

 

The sun was high in the sky by the time Kyo’s apartment building came into sight. His body prickled with sweat, and pulse still knocked persistently against his neck. His throat was dry down to his chest, but Kyo enjoyed the sting of air that slid down all the way to his stomach.

He was halfway up the stairs to his apartment when his phone rang in his pocket. Without looking at the caller ID, Kyo flipped open the phone with a breathy, “Hello?”

“I didn’t catch you in the middle of your run, did I?” Tohru asked, voice bright chipper despite the early hour.

“Nah, I’m about to walk through the door,” Kyo reassured.

“Oh good! I wanted to catch you before you went to work today.” Tohru’s voice was surrounded by the bustle of background noise and movement. Kyo could hear the mechanic voice of a woman announcing to keep clear of the yellow line. “Did you get everything settled?”

Kyo gave an annoyed grunt as he entered his apartment, voice still staying low, knowing Yuki wouldn’t be awake yet.

“I dunno, the guy won’t listen. It’s not like I can press it,” Kyo said.

“But you start your new classes today, right?” Tohru asked.

“I thought so, but they keep switching them around on me.” Kyo opened the fridge with just a little too much force. “His disciple keeps getting all the advanced classes, and they keep piling the amateur work on me. The guy hasn’t even been trained as long as I have.”

Kyo started work in a new dojo six months ago, training and teaching classes under a new sensei—a once colleague of Kazuma’s. It was far from Kyo’s first choice, and in all honestly Kyo would have much rather stayed at Kazuma’s dojo, but his foster father urged him to take in the teachings and lessons from other masters.

Besides, Kazuma was in the process of moving the dojo into a new space (and further from the Sohma estate). The transition was resulting in growing pains that led to Kazuma’s business being temporarily slowed. It would still be a little while until Kyo could retake-up his spot as Kazuma’s direct disciple and heir once again.

Which Kyo would have taken a lot easier if his new “master” wasn’t such a difficult man. He clearly favored his disciples over Kyo, despite their wide gaps in knowledge, and rarely gave Kyo any responsibilities outside of busy work and beginners’ training.

“That’s terrible,” Tohru said, sympathetically. “Maybe if you can convince them to let you lead at least one advanced class, they’ll see how good you are!”

“Apparently that ain’t gonna happen until I learn to ‘properly’ teach the beginners,” Kyo groused, rolling his eyes. “Since I’m too hard on them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a strict teacher,” Tohru said, even her voice taking a grumpier tone.

“Whatever, it’s getting to be such a pain in the ass that I’m starting not to give a shit,” Kyo lied. In the background of the call he could hear another announcement come over the PA system wherever Tohru was.

“I’m sorry, Kyo, I have to let you go! I’ll call you later to see how it went. Oh, and say hi to Yuki for me!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kyo hung up the phone and headed towards the kitchen. It was closer to the end of the week and he was running low on groceries, but he was sure he could scrounge something up before Yuki woke up.

Deciding on eggs over rice, he went back to his room to grab a change of clothes after a shower but was surprised when Yuki was standing, buttoning up the last few buttons on his shirt.

“You’re awake?”

“Yeah,” Yuki said, still focusing on his task. “You forgot to turn the alarm off this morning.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Kyo grumbled. Yuki looked up at him with a small smile.

Yuki still looked tired, like he did every morning (read: anytime before noon). His hair looked barely straightened, the delicate skin around his eyes hung heavily, and his shoulders were drooped with exhaustion.

That’s why Kyo was surprised to see Yuki start to gather his things.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I forgot my text books at my apartment for class today. I didn’t think I’d be spending the night.”

“You don’t have to leave now. I can make something to eat before you subject yourself to shitty cafeteria food.”

Yuki looked him in the eye again and smiled, finally approaching him close enough that their toes touched. Yuki reached a gentle hand to card through Kyo’s sweaty hair, even taking a lock and pressing it between his thumb and forefinger, admiring it. Then, finally, he pressed a kiss to Kyo’s lips. Chaste and quick before pulling away.

“I didn’t know you were having troubles at work.”

“Huh?” Kyo said, still somewhat dazed, even from the barest of kisses.

“I heard you talking to Tohru on the phone.”

“Uh, right. She says hi by the way,” Kyo said, voice low and intimate. Yuki nodded in response, clasping Kyo’s forearms and gently rubbing them up and down. “It’s no big deal.”

“I’m sure. You can handle anything,” Yuki said. And though the words sounded sincere, his eyes wandered to his watch. “I should go.”

 _I don’t want you to,_ were the first random formation of words that popped into Kyo’s head. But instead it translated into, “I won’t stop you.”

Something escaped Yuki, maybe related to a sigh, or maybe more of a yawn. Kyo couldn’t tell, but regardless Yuki pressed another kiss to Kyo’s cheek before walking past him.

Kyo saw him to the door, awkwardly leaned against the wall as Yuki pulled his shoes on, and starting to feel uncomfortable in his now drying sweat. Yuki wrapped a coat around him, and the scarf given to him by Tohru for Christmas. The layers of clothes made Kyo feel clammy, despite knowing the biting chill still lingering.

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

“What would I be doin’?” Kyo shrugged.

Yuki smiled, “I’ll bring an overnight bag this time.”

Kyo nodded, and with that the door closed behind Yuki. Kyo rubbed the back of his neck and headed towards the bathroom to take a shower.

Eggs on rice didn’t sound as appetizing when it was just for one.

 

——

 

Kyo didn’t bother to knock on the door of the dojo, slipping off his shoes next to the few other pairs in the entryway. He knocked on the banister, half balancing himself as he tried to peer around.

By the time Kyo moved in with Kazuma as a child, his dojo had already been running for over three years. Not once did Kyo ever see it empty. Kazuma was a charismatic, generous person, and people tended to linger around him. It wasn’t rare for employees or family members to stay in the extra rooms of the dojo. And in the summer, there would always be a children’s stay-over camp that Kyo even begrudgingly took part in.

So when Kyo stepped inside the dojo, he was met with the sickly unfamiliar feeling of emptiness. In the entryway the walls were stripped of their pictures and scrolls. A few trash bags gathered in the corner, rustling as they were disturbed by the draft running through the building.

“Shishou?” He called out, loitering idly in the hallway.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he immediately pulled it from his pocket thinking it would be Yuki about when he was coming by tonight. Kyo immediately felt a lame fizzle of disappointment at seeing a text from one of his colleagues at the dojo instead.

He heard footsteps padding down the hall, but when Kyo finally looked up form his phone, he was met with the dark, wry stare of Rin. Her hair was tied high up in a bun, and she was wearing less form fitting clothes than he was used to seeing her in. On her hands were work gloves that looked two sizes too big.

They locked eyes for a second longer before they both gave a unified, “ugh.”

“Haru,” Rin called, without another greeting to Kyo. He rolled his eyes and stepped inside.

“Where’s Shishou?” Kyo said, idly following behind her.

“He went to buy more boxes,” Rin said, waving a flippant hand over her shoulder. “Haru!”

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Kyo grumbled, more to himself than anyone.

Haru was apparently just in time to save Kyo from a biting comeback as he popped into the main practice area after hearing Rin call after him. He was dressed similarly to his girlfriend, in loose, paint-stained clothes, and a hairband that pushed back his bangs.

“Oh, Kyo. I thought something was making Rin sound livelier.”

Rin rolled her eyes, “Talk to him if you need to bug someone, I’m working.”

“I’m here to work, too, ya know,” Kyo called after Rin with a grunt, taking a pair of work gloves from Haru when they were offered to him. “What’s her damage?”

“Two grumpy problem children packing up their childhood home,” Haru said, as neutral as ever. “I should call a babysitting service.”

“Don’t start pissin’ me off, too.”

“I would never.” Haru lead Kyo to the half-packed boxes of awards and memorabilia that were littered around the main dojo area. Kyo felt a lump in his throat at the sight of it, but crouched down without a second thought and got to work.

“Where’s your better half?” Haru asked, working alongside him.

“He’s got exams coming up,” Kyo shrugged. “Didn’t wanna bug him.”

“Hm,” Haru thought. “Keeping him away from the dojo. Afraid I’ll steal him away?”

“Rin would kick your ass before I even got my hands on you,” Kyo said, distracted by his task.

“How arousing.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“I’ll live with myself,” Haru deadpanned.

Kyo rolled his eyes, but still felt Haru lingering. He felt himself sigh.

“If you’re that desperate to see him you can come over to mine sometime,” Kyo shrugged.

“Oh, I saw him two days ago.”

“You did?”

“But thank you for the offer, my heart is warmed,” Haru said, though through his teasing tone a genuine smile peaked through.

“What were you doin’ with Yuki?”

“You’re acting like I threw his body into a river,” Haru said, eyebrow perching up. “The three of us saw a movie. He said he was interested in something that was playing.”

“Oh,” Kyo said, a ripple of irritation dragging up his skin. Kyo tried not to grumble when he said, “What movie?”

“Something Korean. You wouldn’t have liked it,” Haru said, clearly amused. “Rin fell asleep.”

“What the hell do you know about what I like,” Kyo huffed.

“Well, Yuki was the one who said you wouldn’t like it,” Haru shrugged.

“How am I supposed to know that if I don’t see the fucking movie?”

“Uh oh, someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Kyo bemoaned.

“Ah.”

“Would you shut up? I’m trying to work here.”

“Of course, Kyo,” Haru said, already making for the other room where Rin was working.

“Piss off,” Kyo called after him, half-heartedly.

He shoved the memorabilia into the box a little too harshly, letting the melancholy that swirled in his gut mutate into bitterness. He didn’t need to get this bitchy, especially when he still had to go back to work in a few hours for the afternoon classes there.

He allowed himself a look around the dojo, where he grew up. A building that he knew every single piece and chip and stain and smell. He stared up at the rest of the memories he would be forced to put into boxes today and sighed.

Kyo really didn’t want to do this.

 

——

 

When Kyo answered the door, Yuki immediately handed him a carton of milk.

“You were running low.”

“Thanks,” Kyo said, grabbing the milk and closing the door as Yuki toed off his shoes in a hurry. “Where’s the fire?”

“I’ve needed to use the bathroom since three subway stops ago.”

Kyo stopped him in his tracks to plant a quick kiss on Yuki’s lips, “Hi.”

“Hi. Please move,” Yuki said, smile spread easily on his face.

“Why? So you can take a piss?”

Yuki rolled his eyes at his exploited pet peeve, trying to get past Kyo, only to be blocked, “You know I hate that.”

“ _Hot hot piss_ —ow!” Kyo clutched his pinched side as Yuki snuck past him straight for the bathroom.

“I warned you,” Yuki called from the other room.

“You coulda just peed at the station!”

“Too crowded,” Yuki called.

“Or a bush or something,” Kyo mumbled to himself. Dutifully he went to the kitchen to put the milk in the fridge, downing the last of what was left in the old carton. Kyo took a peak at his watch.

It was still somewhat early in the night, and Kyo rubbed the back of his neck, giving a frustrated groan at himself.

“Hey,” Kyo called when he heard the bathroom door open. Yuki popped his head into the doorway of the kitchen. “Do you wanna… go out? Or something?”

Yuki’s eyebrow raised into a skeptical look, “Do you?”

“I dunno. I’m just saying it’s an option.”

Yuki situated himself so that he was leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, “Aren’t you usually exhausted after work?”

“I’m just saying we’re dating. We can go on dates or whatever,” Kyo could feel himself getting annoyed.

Yuki crooked a funny smile at him before turning around and heading into Kyo’s bedroom, “Sounds too conventional for us.”

Well, Kyo couldn’t argue with that.

So instead he went into the living room, and plopped himself down against the wall. It’s true, he was exhausted. And keeping his annoyances from work at bay all day had built a pressure up between his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to go out and deal with people.

But it’s not like he wouldn’t for Yuki.

Yuki knew that, right?

He was very rudely distracted from his thoughts when Yuki finally reentered the living room, this time wearing one of Kyo’s tank tops and a pair of his sweatpants.

“Hey, hey, wait a second, what the hell are you wearing?” Kyo cried. The fabric hung off Yuki’s shoulders, with the red color of the shirt contrasting against Yuki’s pale skin. The comfortable gray fabric of the pants looked bunched and awkward on a slender frame that only ever donned something fitting to his form. It didn’t suit him at all, but that didn’t stop Kyo from admiring the sight of it.

Yuki slumped down next to Kyo, none too gracefully, taking up a considerable amount of space in the living room and making a show of stretching out.

“Your clothes. I didn’t bring my pajamas.”

“Every fuckin’ time you come here you end up staying the night. What happened to that overnight bag you were gonna bring?”

“I have something to do tomorrow morning, I wasn’t planning on staying over.”

“Funny since you changed into my pajamas 5 seconds after being here.”

“It’s supposed to rain tonight, I don’t want to get caught in it.”

“It’s not gonna rain,” Kyo said, thinking to the clear blue skies that had been unmarred by clouds all day. Kyo looked at Yuki when he didn’t give him a response, a warm smile playing on Yuki. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny how you can’t sense it anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

Yuki slumped down against the wall, resting his head against Kyo’s shoulder. Now that Yuki was settled, he looked tired. His voice had a sort of lull to it, and his skin seemed somewhat paler — that kind of dullness it would take if Yuki hadn’t been sleeping well. Kyo thought about Yuki’s hand, resting limply on the floor. Kyo wanted to take it, encase it in both his hands, and run his thumb over the skin back and forth. Comforting, for some reason.

Not that he knew why he wanted to, Yuki had an expression and composure as still and calm as an undisturbed pond. Anything Kyo noticed would probably be brushed off by Yuki, anyway. If experience served his predictions, at all.

Kyo smothered the feeling of wanting to take Yuki’s hand by resting his head atop Yuki’s, instead.

“You know in high school I would base whether I needed an umbrella or not off of you,” Yuki said. “If you yawned at breakfast, that usually meant it would rain in the afternoon.”

“That’s stupid,” Kyo felt his cheeks warm.

“You were more accurate than the weather reporters, at least,” Yuki chuckled. “Now you’re pretty useless.”

“I’m not takin’ that seriously from the hobo who’s wandered into my apartment.”

“Hobo. Is that me?”

“Yeah, that’s you.”

“What a charitable soul you are, then” Yuki chimed, squeezing Kyo’s cheeks between his fingers in mock affection. Kyo slapped his hand away and Yuki laughed. “Alright, alright. Guess I’ll just go home then. You know, before the rain starts.”

Yuki shrugged making to get up, only for Kyo to grab at the back of his shirt and pull him back down, making Yuki fall against him much more heavily with a startled laugh.

Kyo positioned Yuki so that he was facing him, sitting in his lap, eyes narrowed but lips unable to stop how they quirked up slightly.

“I wasn’t saying that,” Kyo said. Yuki wrapped his arms around Kyo’s shoulders.

“Let me ask you, Kyo. Are you mad that I’m wearing your clothes, or mad that I’m wearing anything at all?” Yuki’s lips slotted against his easily to punctuate the statement and Kyo kissed back easily. He could feel the curve of Yuki’s smile against his mouth as they both fell into a lazy kiss.

When he and Yuki first started dating, he didn’t think anything could be better than the heated, hurried kisses that they frantically shared. They kissed like they couldn’t even conceive of the next moment existing. As if there was no time in the world, and they would have to consume every bit of the others’ taste before the world ended from some sort of horrible demise.

That, or until one of them changed their mind.

Those kisses were all adrenaline and force and punches of lust to his stomach with hands in hair and clothes and lips dancing with tongue and teeth, and it felt so incredible Kyo was sure there would be nothing else like it in the world.

But now they kissed without motive and rush. They kissed because that’s where it made sense for their lips to go — slotted against the other’s. They kissed knowing that they would again tomorrow and the next day and, if he was lucky, maybe the day after that too.

Kyo could savor Yuki’s hand floating through his hair, and could draw lazy circles on his back. Kyo could slide his hands to Yuki’s waist, letting his thumbs idly rub back and forth.

Yuki bit on his lip, but it felt more like a nibble than a ferocious attack, and Kyo licked into Yuki’s mouth like running on an autopilot, still marveling at how the action felt just as good slowed down and enunciated as it did sped up and desperate.

Yuki made a couple of soft protesting hums as the kiss drew deeper, before finally pulling away. Kyo, without thinking followed Yuki’s lips to catch them again in a brief, hurried kiss.

He could feel Yuki chuckling against his mouth before breaking away again, this time more definitely.

“Stop kissing me, I’m hungry.”

“You really are a hobo,” Kyo griped. “If you want me to cook something, you’re gonna have to get off my lap.”

“Hm. Regrettable,” Yuki mock sighed as he finally slipped off Kyo to sit next to him instead. “Want me to help?”

“As much as I want food poisoning,” Kyo said, getting up. It was then that Yuki’s cell phone started to ring.

“I’m getting better,” Yuki smiled, standing up to follow Kyo into the kitchen. “Just give me something easy to do.”

“Want somethin’ easy? Answer your phone and fuck off,” Kyo said, grabbing some ingredients from the fridge. Yuki snorted, fishing his phone out and flipping it open. He leaned against the counter just a few feet from Kyo.

“Ayame? …I’m alright, how are you.”

“Do _not_ tell him I’m here,” Kyo hissed in a whisper.

“Kyo says hi.”

“No, I don’t!” Kyo glared at Yuki, who responded by stealing a cherry tomato from Kyo’s cutting board and popping it in his mouth. Kyo continued to chop the vegetables for the meal as Ayame’s garbled electronic voice played in the background. He was already dreading having the phone passed to him.

“You sound serious, what’s going on?” Yuki said into the phone.

Kyo looked to Yuki, his posture straightening, and a sobered and somber tone overtaking him.

Another all too hushed version of Ayame answered over the phone, and Yuki’s eyes went wide with unpleasant surprise.

“What? When?”

Kyo was suddenly astutely aware of his instinct to reach out for Yuki’s hand. Somehow, the second time that night.

 

————

 

It took a couple of attempts, but Yuki finally was able to tie his tie correctly. The slack nature of university had dulled his expertise on the matter, and it didn’t help that his fingers were filled with a twitching energy.

Kyo watched him silently from Yuki’s bed, elbows rested on his knees as he watched his partner dress—his own tie slung around his neck as he patiently waited his turn.

The suit fit Yuki all too well. It was tailored to do so, making him much more of a standout as opposed to all the other suits that roamed and packed into the subway rush hour. Then again, Kyo thought, it wasn’t hard for Yuki to stand out wherever he was.

When Yuki finally adjusted his tie to his satisfaction he turned to Kyo, motioning for him to stand up, which Kyo did wordlessly. Without a second thought, Yuki went to work tying Kyo’s tie, as well. Which left Kyo the opportunity to study Yuki’s features closely. The tension sewn from eye to eye to nose to mouth. Almost as if someone had pulled the end of a loose seam in order to bunch the fabric being held together.

Still, it would take the microscopic view that Kyo was allowed in that moment to notice it at all, and Yuki was as good as ever at retaining that composure. His only tell being his stiff shoulders, and fingers that worked slightly too fast to be considered efficient.

“Were you close with her?” Kyo finally asked. Yuki spared a brief look at Kyo’s face before focusing back on his task.

“My grandmother wasn't exactly a warm person. She is my mother’s mother, after all.” Yuki sighed. “ _Was_ my mother’s mother,” he corrected.

Yuki stopped again, disguising the pause in his action as needing to start the tie over again. Kyo could tell Yuki’s thoughts were simmering too close to the surface to allow him to follow the simple muscle memory of tying a tie. But Yuki also was an expert at sopping up his edges before it cracked to his face, and stamping them down like bile — only leaving Yuki with a slightly seasick expression.

That’s why Kyo was surprised when Yuki continued, “Staying at her house was better than staying with Akito, at least.” Another paused, Kyo watched Yuki’s neck muscles tense. “She had a garden. It was nice.”

“Sounds alright,” Kyo offered. Yuki looked up at him as if surprised he was still there.

“She beat my knuckles with a ruler when I picked a flower for her from the garden. I was six.”

Kyo didn’t really know what to say to that. That had been the general theme of the week, really.

The days leading up to the funeral, Kyo hadn’t seen much of Yuki. That night after Yuki received the call he left early the next morning and hadn’t been to Kyo’s apartment since. The texts between them turned somewhat cold and brief, as well. To where Kyo would text with the intention of comforting Yuki—from whatever the hell it was he was feeling—to thinking he was being a piece of shit for even thinking something was wrong.

Kyo didn’t press it. Yuki wasn’t exactly an open person. And neither was he, for that matter.

If Yuki needed to fuck off and do his own thing, he understood. Kyo wasn’t some clingy girlfriend from a soap opera. He knew when to back off.

That’s why it surprised him when he received a call from Yuki two nights ago asking if his Sunday was free.

_“I’d rather…” Yuki paused. “I’d appreciate the company.”_

Kyo said yes without even thinking about it and called Kunimitsu to see if he could borrow a suit shortly after.

Yuki adjusted the tie, tightening the knot up to Kyo’s neck. Kyo gave an annoyed grunt.

“You’re gonna choke me out,” Kyo said, batting away Yuki’s hands to loosen the pressure against his windpipe.

“Then do it yourself next time,” Yuki said, walking away from him to grab his watch from his bedside table.

Kyo rolled his shoulders so he wouldn’t roll his eyes. That was another thing. Yuki was being particularly short with him with the few times they did talk on the phone or on text, and Kyo’s patience was running real thin.

He stopped himself from saying anything, though. Rationally, Kyo knew that it had something to do with the funeral. Kyo knew it wouldn’t do a damn thing to call Yuki out right now. Even if he was being a dick.

“Are you ready? We need to leave soon,” Yuki said, offhandedly. “My mother already isn’t happy with me. I can only imagine what she’ll do if I’m late.”

“Ready when you are,” Kyo said, already dreading this afternoon.

 

——————

 

The fucked up thing was, Yuki’s family was a lot bigger than expected.

When Kyo’s mother passed away and his father exiled him from the house, he was passed from person to person with thin relational ties at best.

His father had a brother, but they hadn’t spoken in years.

His mother had a second cousin that lived nearby. She took Kyo in for a night (begrudgingly so).

Both sets of grandparents had passed away before he was born.

The brief period between the time of his mother’s suicide and the funeral proceedings was enough for Kyo to realize that he was left with no immediate family. Kazuma stepping in when he did was nothing short of a miracle.

With the way Yuki talked about his past, about his time with Akito, and with how Yuki also ended up in Shigure’s house of dysfunctional rejects, Kyo somehow assumed Yuki’s situation was similar.

Yuki’s mother had one sister. She had three kids of her own. Yuki’s father had four siblings (three brothers and a sister)—from them Yuki had two more immediate cousins.

His grandparents from his father’s side were still alive. His grandfather from his mother’s side was, as well.

Kyo was reeling when Yuki pointed them all out to him when they entered the funeral hall. At the very fucking least, Kyo knew about Yuki’s brother.

Maybe it wasn’t so strange that he hadn’t mentioned them before, however. The tension that roiled off Yuki was so immediate it felt like a tidal wave against Kyo. Yuki looked like he didn’t know who to be more disappointed to see first.

His aunt caught sight of him first, his mother’s younger sister. She held a handkerchief up to her face, eyes red and distraught, though her make-up was still perfectly unperturbed. Her heels put her just slightly shorter than the two of them, and she immediately rested a hand on Yuki’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you looking handsome, Yuki,” she said, through an exaggerated sniffle.

“Thank you,” Yuki said, with a bow.

“So polite, still. Sometimes I’m sure you can’t be my sister’s son,” she blotted her face with the handkerchief, making more of a show of it than anything. Kyo watched the scene with a level of discomforted that could only be a fraction of Yuki’s. “She’s being absolutely horrid. My mother has died and she’s acting like I’m the one who killed her.”

She sniffled again, clutching his handkerchief against her chest. Yuki looked a bit lost in how to respond.

“It’s been a tough time,” Yuki landed on, finally. His aunt nodded as if not even hearing him. She didn’t even spare a glance at Kyo. When he looked around, though, he found that was not the case for Yuki’s mother who was giving him a decisive glare.

“I just don’t know what to do with myself, you know? What can any child do when their parent passes away? It’s like losing a lifeline. I was feeling so lost when I found out, I couldn’t get out of bed for days. But I knew, today, I had to find the strength to be here. For mother,” her voice cracked on that, and another wave of dry sobs pushed out of her.

“It was very brave of you to be here,” Yuki said, Kyo rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Yuki. You’re so sweet.” And just like that, she vanished, scuttling away to another relative or family friend and regaling the same story of woe to them, moving her arms as if in practiced gestures.

Kyo grunted, “Your aunt, huh?”

“I don’t speak to her much,” Yuki said. “She’s kind when it suits her.”

Yuki’s mother took the chance to approach them, then. Her eyes harsher, more narrowed than the few unpleasant times Kyo met her in the past. She looked slender like a pin, her black dress fitting her like a second skin. She was pristine and sharp as a blade, not one hair out of place.

“You’re late,” she said to Yuki immediately. She looked to Kyo and then back to her son. “I asked one thing of you.”

“He’s my partner,” Yuki said, voice low and resentful. “I need him here.”

Kyo felt a sudden shock through his system, the very familiar feeling of not being welcome flooding though him like the ache from a flu.

She rolled her eyes, “You hadn’t spoken to her in years. What you need is a sense of decency.”

“I can leave, if you’d prefer,” Yuki said.

“Everyone is here now. Do not embarrass me by storming out like a child,” she said, voice even despite her clear and biting rage.

“Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Kyo immediately regretted even opening his mouth. The two of them looked to him with eyes sharpened, and Kyo felt as though twin daggers were being held against his neck. He felt a crick in shoulder.

“Kyo is here to pay his respects. Like me.”

“What’s going on here,” a male voice said suddenly. A hand dropped on Yuki’s mom’s shoulder. A handsome man, tall, moving naturally in his expensive suit, regarded Yuki with only a glance his way.

Yuki’s father.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, gently moving her shoulder so that he would drop his hand.

All parties looked somewhat vexed at the lack of diplomatic words left to explain the situation. Which left Yuki saying, somewhat lamely, “Kyo’s here.”

“I can see that,” the man responded. “Why don’t we all take our seats. The service is beginning soon.”

Yuki’s mother considered this for a minute, before saying, “Behave yourself.” With that, she walked away towards the front of hall to sit in the front row next to her sister. Yuki’s father lingered behind, someone that Kyo never really considered. Something like a shadow that never manifested any actual mention when he and Yuki would absently talk about their families.

But now, his force was felt as strongly as Yuki’s mother’s. A seething indifference behind his eyes landed squarely on Yuki, who stood to attention as if facing a commanding officer.

“Dad…”

“Don’t upset her. Take your seat with the family.”

When Yuki and Kyo moved in unison, the man cleared his throat, smiling as if engaging them in pleasant conversation, “outside guests may have a seat in the back.” And with that, he walked away, as well.

Kyo scanned the room, eyes immediately landing on Ayame sitting towards the front, that maid chick that followed him around sitting right next to him (fortunately, in much more appropriate garb). Kyo scoffed.

“Bullshit.”

Yuki didn’t respond, so Kyo followed the instinct that had been screaming in his muscles all week, and he reached out to wrap a subtle arm around Yuki’s waist, rubbing at his back in what he hoped was comforting.

Yuki immediately stepped away.

“Don’t, Kyo,” Yuki spat.

Kyo’s arm dropped, indignation clouding his tone, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Keep it that way. Please,” Yuki said harshly. As if Kyo had forced himself into the building, and not at all as if he had been invited by his fucking boyfriend.

He didn’t even have a chance to respond before Yuki was sitting up front next to Ayame, not even sparing him a glance back.

Though Ayame looked over his shoulder and gave him a wave. Kyo didn’t wave back.

 

————

 

The only other zodiac members there were Haru and Rin. The ceremony had already started when Haru sat down next to him, Rin sitting on the other side. He felt an affectionate squeeze of his shoulder, and turned to see Haru’s mom giving him a smile from the row behind them. Haru’s father gave him an acknowledging nod, as well.

They’d always been nice to him since they were kids, and he gave a bow of his head out of respect before turning back around.

“Yuki invite you?” Kyo asked in a voice as low to a whisper as it would go.

Haru shook his head, staring forward, “My mom made me come.”

“What are you, five?”

Rin shushed them both, and the ceremony continued on.

Surprisingly, the hall was almost completely full. Nearly every chair was filled. And the people were dressed well, with extra care taken into their appearance. It was in that moment how it struck Kyo exactly the high society Yuki’s family surrounded themselves in. With the well dressed people, none of which looked as though they might shed a tear, and mothers with slender frames taking more care to make sure their children didn’t make noise and disrupt the service, rather than absorbing what was being said.

It was a sea of stiff, black material, heads popping up as if standing in a murky lake, as still and motionless as if they were the corpses, themselves. Frankly, a deep and extreme contrast to how Yuki acted now.

Full of movement and momentum, full of passion and fight, of a selfishness he was never allowed, and a gentleness he was (clearly) never taught. Where Kyo was sure Yuki would have been another motionless body when he was younger, with those dead eyes that Kyo resented so much—Yuki was now the only one to fidget and squirm among his family.

It was subtle, not at all exaggerated, and hidden as best as Yuki could manage (which was fairly well).

But Kyo knew where to look, and so he did.

At the end of the service, the first few rows stood and gathered in a line, each placing a flower in the open casket where Yuki’s grandmother laid. From this angle, Kyo couldn’t see anything in the casket, and realized that he might not have a chance to see her at all.

His theory was confirmed when the ceremony concluded, and the casket was closed for good. She was carried out of the hall, on the way to the crematorium, where they’d head next. Kyo watched as the coffin passed down the aisle.

They all stood and scattered in low murmurs after that. Yuki was lingering behind, seemingly unable to escape the obligation of being the loyal son. Kyo waited in his seat, knowing better than to approach him now, but Haru was quick to stand and walk over to him—Haru’s mother not far behind.

Kyo watched as Haru’s mother spoke with Yuki’s, a sympathetic exchange clearly passing between them, and a polite smile gracing Yuki’s mother. She looked as if she had never let a cruel thought cross her mind, but Kyo was far from fooled.

Haru gave a bow to Yuki’s parents, but immediately slid himself next to his childhood friend. They chatted for a bit, Yuki shaking his head at whatever Haru was asking. It was then that Haru placed a hand on Yuki’s back, a clearly comforting gesture.

Kyo looked away, standing up on reflex to leave the stuffy hall and get some air. Not observing the scene long enough to see Yuki push Haru’s hand away, the tension still settled on his brow and posture.

Yuki finally emerged from the hall, eyes landing on Kyo who was soaking up the sun when it decided to peak in-between the clouds. They were building slowly, threatening to blot out the blue sky with gray overcast. It was supposed to rain tonight, but Kyo only knew that because he checked the weather.

“You okay?” Kyo asked, when Yuki stood next to him.

“Fine,” Yuki sighed, and offered nothing more than that. “I’m riding with my mother to the crematorium. You can go with Ayame or Haru.”

“Fine,” Kyo parroted. The two stood outside until they were called to leave, not looking towards each other in the meantime.

 

——

 

The crematorium was smaller than the funeral hall, and as a result people squashed inside shoulder to shoulder, only leaving a gap around Yuki’s family as they watched the fire start to take hold of the coffin. Yuki’s aunt wailed and sobbed, on her knees in distraught grief while the others watched in silence.

Kyo watched as Yuki’s mother rolled her eyes. Kyo watched as Yuki kept his gaze ahead, his forehead beginning to break out in a light sweat—most likely from the heat and humidity of being packed into one small room.

The body would take at least three hours to burn, and the room was nearly completely empty after thirty minutes—tradition being that they would return when there was nothing but ash and bone. When the crowd dissipated, Yuki’s aunt was the first to leave from the family. Then Yuki’s father’s family. Then Yuki’s father.

Finally, Ayame, Mine, and Yuki turned to leave and Kyo followed behind them out the door. Ayame took them to a small cafe nearby, and the four sat in mostly silence as they sipped at their coffee and teas in peace.

Ayame spoke in hushed tones, and Yuki barely spoke at all. Mine asked Kyo questions about his life and how he’d been since the last time they’d seen each other, and Kyo responded in a gruff sort of politeness.

No one had spoken in twenty minutes when Yuki announced that they should head back, and head back they do.

Yuki’s mother was still there, not having moved at all from where they left her hours ago, but no one said anything about it.

The crowd was back up to suffocating levels when the family was each handed a set of long chopsticks by the priest. An urn was placed at the head of the table where the coffin once laid out.

Yuki, his mother, his aunt, his brother, and his father take the bones from ash and place them into the urn one by one. They pass the bones between their chopsticks in silence, Yuki’s aunt gave uncontrollable sniffles as the process dragged on. It was early evening now, and completely overcast, halting any natural light that might have come in from the large windows in the room.

The world, for a brief moment, was reduced to simple sphere, with the clanking of bones against ceramic marking the dead center. It was a gradient of black to gray, with Kyo noting Yuki’s hair meshing into the scene.

The gray of Yuki’s hair was not as pure as it once was. Years of being solely human corroded the color to peppered charcoal. Kyo wondered how he never considered Yuki’s hair to be an absence of color. Instead, it absorbed the colors and emotions around it like an eager sponge. Yuki’s hair was the only clear reflection of his soul, so excited and desperate to combine so much of the world together, it meshed into one bold, unmistakeable color.

It was a shame how it blended in with such a grayscale moment, Kyo thought.

Kyo watched with the rest of the crowd as the family clicked bone between porcelain chopsticks and dropped them into the urn. They worked silently, and Kyo felt himself straining to watch the scene surrounded by suited shoulders.

Yuki picked up a piece of his grandmother’s bone and went to hand it to his father. It was only a moment, but it was immediate. Yuki’s father rejected the offering, picking another piece up with his own chopsticks, ignoring Yuki’s.

Yuki didn’t flinch, placing it in the urn, and repeating the motion again. This time to his mother. In almost identical movements, Yuki’s mother did the same, leaving Yuki abandoned in a room full of people with a piece of bone.

Kyo’s face scrunched even more when the same thing happened with Yuki’s aunt. A stark contrast to the inflatedly sorrowed words she’d shared with Yuki that morning.

In the end, Ayame was the only one to pass off a piece of bone to Yuki, but even that was interrupted by curt stares towards the eldest brother—and by Yuki’s aunt intercepting any attempt Ayame made regardless to include Yuki in the ritual.

Kyo felt that hot surge of anger crest in his throat as he watched the this continue.

The result was Yuki placing bones into an urn alone, with his family working silently around him.

 

———

 

Everyone had left again, this time for good. Even Haru and his family had given their last goodbyes, along with an envelope of money, before leaving the mourning family.

Kyo didn’t miss from his position against the window how Haru and Yuki exchanged a few more words with each other—Kyo didn’t even have to know what they were saying for him to know that it was more than anything Yuki had said to him all day.

As the rest of the crowd shuffled out, Kyo realized Yuki was finally looking his way. But, he realized, he was being eyed warily. Yuki looked at him as if he were a bomb no one else could see. As people began to thin out, Yuki coiled tighter and tighter, putting to shame the fact that his brother was ever called a snake instead.

It wasn’t a great feeling, realizing you were the source of your partner’s anxiety. Realizing that every look toward him was bringing waves of rigidity rather than calm. Why did Yuki even ask Kyo to this stupid thing if he was going to tense at every sight of him.

Kyo squared himself in the room out of spite, making it clear that he was here for Yuki and Yuki alone. Letting Yuki’s glances become fodder for a blood-blistered annoyance.

Finally, when it was just him, Mine, and Yuki’s immediate family in the room, Yuki walked up to him to say, “We can leave now.” Yuki shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to Kyo who took it easily.

“Good,” Kyo said. Not sure who was more relieved between the two of them. Yuki was still vibrating with tension, his skin paler than it was this morning, and that sweat on his brow still not completely matted.

“Yuki,” his mother called out, approaching them, and Yuki closed his eyes to absorb the full body sigh that he must have caught before the reflex played out in his body.

Yuki turned to look at her.

“We’re talking about this later.”

 _This_ very clearly being Kyo, by the way her eyes locked on him as if he were an unsightly piece of decor.

“I don’t see any reason in that,” Yuki said, voice still calm and even.

“I’m tired of your spiteful jokes, Yuki. You can’t act like this at your grandmother’s funeral of all places.”

Yuki opened his mouth to respond, but Kyo was shocked when the words came out were his instead.

“Can you back off?”

There came those twin daggers again, but Kyo kept his eyes squarely on Yuki’s mother.

“I’m sorry?” Came the icy and very unapologetic reply.

“It’s a fucking funeral.”—her head jerked back in offense at the curse—“Mourn however the hell you need and let people do the same.”

“Kyo—” Yuki warned.

He said it despite the flare in his gut in the face of this woman. He let his impatience get the best of him. He let that crude, irritated nature on a platform again, falling into it easier than he liked. But, dammit, Yuki wasn’t letting him anywhere near him. He wasn’t letting him do the things that boyfriends or whatever were supposed to do at funerals.

He had practiced, too. In a way. He softened himself specifically for this week, repeated his head a mantra of what he would need to do and say. He steeled himself for the possibility that Yuki might cry of all things. That’s what people did at funerals, right?

He didn’t expect to be pushed to the sidelines and forced to watch Yuki’s family shit on him right in front of their dead relative. And, hell, even if Yuki was being a piece of shit about all of it, that didn’t make it okay. That didn’t make it sit well in Kyo’s gut.

Someone had to say something, right?

Because no one had in quite some time.

And shit, Yuki’s mom could pierce with that look she was giving Kyo. He was aware that Ayame was watching, concerned, and that Yuki was on his toes for whatever his mother might say next.

Finally, in absence of Kyo explaining himself, she said, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize to me right now.”

Kyo’s face twisted, “For what?”

“You do not speak to me like that.”

“What? People can’t call you on your shit, but you can treat your kid like garbage all day?”

“I don’t think you have any right to talk about things you’re not involved in. You have no business being here in the first place.”

“Datin’ your son ain’t business enough for you?” It was the best Kyo could bite back with, but somehow the words fell empty on him. Their potency feeling empty and useless.

Lots of people just _dated_ and didn’t get this fucking upset when their partner’s mothers acted irrational.

Lots of just _dated_ and only went out once a week to see a movie, or swapped texts when they were bored on the train.

Lots of people just _dated_ and only held room in their chests for the light, the fluttery, the nerves, the sweet tipsy feeling of being liked.

Lots of people just _dated_ and nothing else.

And, goddammit, this was not the time for Kyo to realize that he wanted to use a word so much heavier, so much deadlier.

Yuki’s mother flared at the response, completely oblivious to Kyo’s internal struggle, and Kyo was bracing himself for another biting remark. He was ready for whatever this bitch threw at him.

What he wasn’t ready for was Yuki’s hand on his chest, pushing him back, and Yuki looking at his mother in the eye with a tension wound deep in his jaw, “I’m sorry.”

Kyo blinked.

After all of what happened today, after the passive aggressive language, after the complete rejection of Yuki in such blatant form, Yuki was apologizing. And he was apologizing for Kyo.

Yuki’s mother looked her son in the eye, her attention suctioned away from Kyo, and she frowned.

“I’m disappointed in you, Yuki. You’ve chosen someone that can’t even respect your mother.”

She turned, sharply, and walked away from them. Ayame gave the group a concerned look, and Yuki’s father watched with the same interest as someone watched advertisements between news reports.

Yuki was quick to grab Kyo’s arm, turn him around, and lead them both out of the building. They walked into the darkening evening, Yuki’s fingers digging into Kyo’s skin like a vice. And despite everything building on Kyo’s tongue like a sour film, it was just a relief to be out of there.

Yuki didn’t say it, but Kyo was sure he felt the same (the bastard).

 

———

 

They didn’t say anything on the subway ride to Kyo’s apartment. At first, Kyo was sure Yuki was going to storm off towards his own train line and leave Kyo alone without so much as another glance in his direction.

But Yuki wordlessly (though obviously still seething) followed Kyo to his subway line without even a hint of hesitation.

The train was crowded, and Yuki refused to take the last seat that Kyo gestured toward. In a fit of spite, Kyo sat down, arms crossed, and glared up at Yuki who was spitefully holding onto the arm hold. His eyes were closed most of the trip there, but he gave a violent flinch when a sudden stop bumped a school girl right into Yuki’s side.

“Chill out,” Kyo said, after the girl had apologized.

Yuki took a deep, leveling breath, hand clenching so tight around the hand hold that his knuckles were turning white.

“I don’t want to speak to you right now.”

“You have to eventually.”

“Eventually,” Yuki conceded, but his tone was still starched and distant.

Kyo rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

Kyo let Yuki into his apartment first, letting the door fall open under his key, and motioning for Yuki to step inside. As if Kyo turned his back on him he might make a run for it. They both toed off their shoes, and Kyo followed Yuki into the kitchen who immediately poured himself a glass of water.

He looked over his shoulder at Kyo while the glass was filling, before turning away again.

“I know you’re itching for a fight, but I’m exhausted. At least let me get something to drink.”

“ _I’m_ the one itching for a fight,” Kyo asked, disbelieving. “When you’ve been the one acting like an ass all week.”

“There it is,” Yuki said, humorlessly, as he took a big gulp of water. He placed the empty glass on the counter and headed to the bedroom. Kyo stormed after him.

“Hey, hey, you wanna tell me why you’re in such a mood? You didn’t have to come to my place if you were just gonna give me the cold shoulder anyway—least you could do is bitch me out a little.”

“You want me to?” Yuki asked, his anger hissing out like pressure being let out bag.

“You didn’t open your damn mouth at all, all day. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say.”

“You’re mad at me because I didn’t make a scene at my family during my grandmother’s funeral?”

“You’re calling what I did making a scene?! In case you didn’t notice, I was trying to defend you!”

“I don’t need you to!” Yuki snapped back, clearly louder than he meant. Now that they were far and away, Yuki looked so much less composed. His tone was no where near controlled, he paced as he loosened his tie and slid it off of himself. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up just slightly, and still he looked like he was about to combust. As if no movement would be enough to burn whatever energy was inside of him.

Kyo watched him, trying to convince himself the words didn’t sting. Waiting for Yuki to explain himself.

Instead, he took a deep inhale, as if trying to steady himself and said, “You shouldn’t have talked to my mother like that.”

“Are you kidding me? After she acted like an asshole all day?”

“That’s what she does, Kyo! I know what to expect from her! Nothing either of us do or say will ever change that! If I knew you wouldn’t get that, I never would have asked you to come!”

“Why _did_ you ask me to come, huh? What was the point of me even being there?”

Yuki looked at him, face pinching angrily at Kyo even asking the question, “How am I supposed to answer that?”

“You tell me! Because I was just some asshole being pushed to the back of the goddamn room the whole time!”

“How are you making my grandmother’s funeral about you?!”

“I’m not! I’m just saying if you wanted your boyfriend there, you could’ve at least leaned on him a little more!” No, no, no, this is not what Kyo wanted to say. “Clearly, someone like Haru’s got that down more than me.” This is not what he prepared himself for. Months and months and months of insecurity was not supposed to be revealed like this—ever, preferably. Fuck, fuck.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about now. But it has nothing to do with you humiliating me in front of my family,” Yuki argued back, frustration clear in his face despite how lost he was at even the mention of Haru.

Kyo let out a frustrated noise, mirroring the sentiment clear on Yuki’s features. “So what? Why do you even give a fuck what they think? You’ve told me the shit your mom put you through, so why the hell are you defending her?!”

“I’m not defending her! I just don’t appreciate you making things harder! For both of us!”

“Both of us? I thought this wasn’t about me at all,” Kyo snarled.

“Oh my God,” Yuki exclaimed, undoing the first button on his dress shirt, that anxious energy causing him to turn away from Kyo, clenching his fists, only to turn back to him. “Don’t you want to get along with my family? Don’t you want them to like you?! Or at least tolerate you?!”

“I think that was fucking over the moment you decided to date the fucking cat!”

Yuki blinked. “ _That’s_ what this is about?”

“That’s how your mom sees me, right?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse right now, five years later! You are not the cat anymore! But you are, clearly, still very stupid!”

“You could’ve fooled me, cause you sure still act like a fucking rat sometimes!”

“What has gotten into you? Did you turn 17 again while I wasn’t looking? Have you regressed in age?”

“Don’t act high and mighty here when you’re the one who’s been acting bitchy all week!”

“I have not!”

“You have!” The force of it stopped Yuki’s momentum. They’d been fighting all this time, but voices weren’t raised in yells or shouts. Voices harsh and clear, but not screeched. And Kyo immediately regretted that the first crack in that volume was made by him. Over something that wasn’t true.

Yuki hadn’t been acting bitchy all week. In reality, Yuki just hadn’t been around.

Yuki hadn’t called him other than to ask him to go to the funeral. Yuki hadn’t texted, other than to respond to Kyo. Yuki hadn’t asked to come over, asked to use his clothes, asked to eat Kyo’s food, hadn’t asked to be weak for just a fucking second, when Kyo was right fucking here.

A thought was mixed with the backwash of needing to use that word in the face of Yuki’s mother.

Kyo just wanted to fix it.

And then, another realization came in tandem.

That maybe Yuki didn’t want him to.

“What’re you doing with me? Huh? Are you just killing time?” Kyo asked, breaking the strained silence between them.

“Why would you… say that?” Yuki’s tone was so non-confrontational, it took Kyo aback.

“You know,” Kyo gestured with his arm before it came slapping back down to his side. Against slacks that weren’t even his.

The arguments in his head seemed weak now.

And, really, that was not fucking fair. Just because he didn’t know how to push it out into words didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

They spent so much time together now, somehow, that Kyo could feel every disconnected gap between them. He could feel the places Yuki refused to touch, he could almost taste what Yuki refused to give.

It was when Yuki left early in the morning, when Kyo knew he hated waking up—when Kyo knew he had scheduled later classes to accommodate that. It was how Yuki never expected to stay the night, never planned his day with Kyo in it. It was how Yuki didn’t ask Kyo to take part in the things he liked, how he didn’t force Kyo to watch movies with him—didn’t force Kyo to be a part of his interests.

It was how Kyo felt as though he was being hidden from Yuki’s family all night. How Yuki tensed if Kyo so much as even looked at his mother. It was how Yuki looked as though he was being punched when his father or mother or aunt or grandparents would look to Kyo and then back to him.

And every bullet point was so strong in Kyo’s head, it swirled in his stomach and made it churn. But aloud they were nothing devastating. Nothing more than blips that Kyo couldn’t shake.

They were potent and precise moments, like poison darts. But when Kyo went to grab them out of the veins in his neck he looked as though he was presenting Yuki with a palm full of toothpicks.

Yuki was still staring at him, expecting an answer and Kyo felt each moment of insecurity drip like sand from his tongue to build the shaky foundation beneath his feet, and he wavered.

“Forget it. Let’s just go to bed.”

Yuki stared at him long and hard, even as Kyo flung off his suit jacket and deposited the borrowed clothes onto the ground unceremoniously. He’d clean everything up tomorrow, he thought, throwing a black, worn t-shirt over his head to go to sleep.

He stubbornly got under the covers, but Yuki hadn’t moved from where he was. Another dart lodged in a vein at the thought that Kyo said something that Yuki knew was true.

Kyo thought he might leave. Leave the apartment where he never forgot to leave even a sock behind, sterile of himself by Yuki’s design (despite the snacks in the pantry, and the extra toothpaste stains on the towel in the bathroom, and the shoes in the entryway, and the extra blanket Kyo bought because he knew Yuki got cold easily).

But Yuki went to Kyo’s dresser and stared at what was inside for a long moment, Kyo peering up now and again through eyes forced shut. Eventually, Yuki folded his clothes onto the dresser (first time for everything, Kyo spitefully thought), grabbed a t-shirt and sweats from Kyo’s drawer and climbed into the futon next to him.

Yuki didn’t face him in bed. He turned away. Kyo didn’t need to look to know.

It bothered Kyo. Even though he was the one to bring it up, even though he was the one to recoil when Yuki pressed, even though he was the one who stopped the conversation, it bothered Kyo that Yuki didn’t say anything in reply.

Maybe this is it, Kyo thought, feeling Yuki adjust beside him, restlessly.

Kyo felt as though he might be sick at the thought of Yuki leaving like he usually did in the morning, only this time not intending to come back.

It was with that lingering nausea that Kyo forced himself to fall asleep.

 

———

 

_CLANG._

Kyo jumped awake, disoriented, and heart pounding at the sudden noise. Was he being robbed? He was being robbed. He should grab something like a bat or a—

Kyo reached out and the first thing that he came into contact with was his alarm clock, poised over his head, ready to be thrown. His eyes were still lidded, and his body was still trying to catch up with his reflexes.

_BANG._

The noise came again, and Kyo turned to see if Yuki heard it, too, only to find him not there at all. The familiar wave of sick was only pushed back by Kyo actually looking at the clock in his hand for its intended purpose and seeing that it read 2:38 AM.

The noises clarified in Kyo’s brain as being the reckless collision of pots and pans in the kitchen, and that Yuki must have been the source of it. With bleary eyes, he pulled himself out of bed and dragged himself to the kitchen.

It was still dark in the apartment, and not even the kitchen light was turned on. Outside was still overcast, and the gentle patter of rain played on the outside of the apartment building. It left the room robbed of even natural moonlight, and it took a moment for Kyo to make out Yuki’s silhouette hunched over in the darkness.

“Yuki?” Kyo’s voice was dry as he flicked the light on.

Yuki jumped immediately, turning to face Kyo with a pan still gripped in his hands, his eyes were wild and unfocused, and looked at Kyo as if he were frightened.

“Kyo. Leave. Just. Leave. Please. Go.” Yuki said, each word panicked and breathy beyond reason. Yuki sounded as if he’d sprinted a marathon. Or as if Kyo was some kind of intruder, even though it was his fucking kitchen.

Kyo was tired, and irritation was slow to come to him when his muscles still ached for sleep, “What the hell are you doing?”

Yuki was staring at him like a crazed dog, eyes fighting with something, and chest inflating again and again in crazy intervals. Kyo tilted his head, prompting Yuki.

“I—I was just,” Yuki started, but his own breathing cut him off. Opening his mouth opened a flood gate in Yuki’s windpipe, apparently, because suddenly he was breathing harshly, uncontrollably. His breaths were ragged and desperate, each one sucked in providing less and less air.

Yuki looked like he didn’t know what to with himself. He looked as if he were angry, clutching onto the pan in his hand as if gripping onto each breath he could manage. His face was flushed, his legs seemed wobbly, and his eyes were trained on the floor in a hazy, anxious glare.

Kyo took a moment to process the scene. He was snapping awake nerve by nerve at the sight of Yuki in distress. Alone, in his kitchen. Trying to bat away a fucking panic attack with a metal pan.

Had he ever seen Yuki like this in his life? Scared and frantic and so unsure? Kyo tried to flip through every memory he had of him, tried to remember any moment in his life when Yuki ever came off as so… weak. Kyo had sort of come to assume that maybe Yuki just… wasn’t. That he didn’t have these moments, that he wasn’t fucking human. That he really was this perfect entity. Something he resented when he was younger, and now something he marveled at (though damn if Yuki would ever know that).

They talked about family, and Yuki didn’t flinch. They talked about Akito, and Yuki didn’t cry. They went to his grandmother’s fucking funeral, and Yuki looked exhausted at most.

Did Kyo really miss that much?

He shook his head. That didn’t really matter though, did it? What mattered was that Yuki was looking scared and alone and freaked the fuck out in the middle of Kyo’s kitchen.

It wasn’t what he prepared for, but he knew what to do.

Kyo approached him on reflex, his brain immediately clicking into muscle memory. Yuki flinched when he approached him, his breaths coming faster and faster, and Kyo could tell Yuki couldn’t breathe. He could tell every second that his breaths didn’t provide him relief, he was growing more and more panicked. Kyo could almost feel that same static disconnect in his own chest.

“Leave. Please.” Yuki said between labored and hurried breaths. His free hand was clutching onto the countertop, and he bent at the waist, as if it was the only way he could think to hide from Kyo.

“It’s my kitchen,” Kyo said. Yuki shook his head, panting frantically. He sighed, kneeling down so that he was eye to eye with Yuki.

“Yuki. Yuki,” Kyo said softly. “Look at me.”

It took a moment, but Yuki tilted his head up to look at Kyo, only for a moment before pinching his eyes closed as if trying to will his breathing to regulate.

“Stand up. C’mon.”

Yuki did as he told, hand going from clutching the counter to his mouth, as if he were trying to smother the sounds coming out of him. Kyo carefully reached forward, making it clear he wasn’t going to touch him, and grabbed the pan out of his hand and placed it on the counter.

“Feet shoulder width apart,” Kyo said, easily. Doing it himself to give Yuki a visual.

For a brief moment, Yuki gave him a questioning look before following the command.

“Hands like this.” Kyo inhaled deeply, bring his arms so that they were scrunched under his armpits, palms facing up. Yuki followed, his own inhale scattered and caught as if his breath was being dragged against a floor of broken glass.

“Hold your breath. Tense your body,” Kyo continued. Slowly, he lowered his hands to his waist, then allowed them to face each other, his index and middle finger remaining pointed as if the only two fingers strong enough to withstand the tension in Kyo’s muscles.

Yuki watched him carefully, eyes still hysterical, and breath unable to be held. But now when he sucked in his inhales he did his best to keep hold of them. He copied Kyo’s movements as best he could.

Kyo nodded at him, “Keep the tension.” He slowly thrust his arms out in front of him, watched as Yuki did the same.

“Release, exhale.” Yuki mirrored how Kyo’s palms flipped up, his arms slowly swaying down by his sides, relaxed. Yuki did his best to keep his exhale quiet like Kyo’s, he could tell, but it still came out loud and ragged. Two more cycles of frantic inhale-exhales fell out of place in the routine. Kyo didn’t correct him.

“Again.”

Kyo inhaled deeply as his arms scrunched under his armpits once more, Yuki following the motion. It took four more times for Yuki to maintain the breathing pattern the exercise demanded, and another two more times for his breathing to finally calm out of the worst of it.

Yuki stood there in the kitchen, arms dangling by his side as he took in another deep breath. But this time it seemed like the aftermath of a runner’s cool down. Or how a child hiccuped their breaths after a cry they couldn’t control.

“Go sit at the table,” Kyo instructed gently, and Yuki nodded and did as he was told, body still stabilizing. Yuki wobbled, light-headed, until he finally sat down, shoulders slumped and palm pressed against his eye, as if reprimanding himself.

Kyo acted immediately, scuffling into the bedroom to grab the extra blanket, before returning to drape it over Yuki’s shoulders without a word. He flipped the stove on, placing his kettle over top. He grabbed a tea bag from the emptying cardboard and placed it in the biggest mug he could find.

It was silent while the water boiled. The living room and kitchen merged into one room, separated only by tile turning into tatami. Yuki clutched at the blanket around him with one hand, eyes screwed shut. Face still slightly flushed. Kyo leaned against the counter and stared at him, openly. As if his eyes didn’t know where else to go but on him. Yuki didn’t look at him once.

When the kettle boiled, Kyo made quick work of pouring it into the cup and bringing it to Yuki, his fingers burning slightly on the overheated, cheap ceramic.

Quietly, more carefully than Kyo had ever moved, he placed himself next to Yuki. He still didn’t open his eyes, even as the noise of the cup being dragged against wood announced his steeping tea.

Kyo didn’t say anything for a moment. Yuki was calmer, but still distraught. His shoulders still shook with the effort of each breath, and the tension was still apparent in every part of Yuki’s body. Yuki’s breaths could flare into useless gasping at any moment, and Kyo could tell Yuki knew that, too.

“Yuki,” Kyo tried, voice still low and even. “Can I touch you?”

Finally, Yuki looked over to him. His face peeled towards Kyo up and off his palm that Yuki was digging his face into—so much so Kyo wondered if Yuki’s elbow hurt from forcing it so harshly into the table wood.

“No,” Yuki said, with none of the composure Yuki prided himself on. Even at a volume low enough to be a whisper. “I mean,” Yuki tried again, his frazzled brain giving every word as it was thought. “Not in that shirt.”

Kyo arched an eyebrow, looking down at himself, at the black, worn t-shirt he always wore to bed. Any other night, Kyo would have thought Yuki was hitting on him, and he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t until Yuki seemed to realized the same thing.

“It’s just,” Yuki’s breath halted and stuttered. “Black.”

Kyo nodded as if he understood, even though he very much didn’t. “Okay.”

Without another word, Kyo wandered back into his bedroom, and grabbed the first t-shirt in his dresser that wasn’t black. He quickly made the swap into a forest green tank and padded back out into the living room.

Kyo settled himself next to Yuki. His eyes didn’t avert automatically anymore, and he didn’t look as if he needed to force his eyes shut, either. Something in him was visibly less tense, and without thinking, Kyo wrapped an arm around him, blanket and all, and pulled him into a side embrace.

Yuki didn’t protest. His breaths finally starting to even, though Kyo had done this enough to know the practice of it. And he knew that until the normality of Yuki’s breathing stopped being deliberate, and until it became second nature once again, anything could kick it off its course.

So Kyo held him close. Pushed his chin onto the crown of Yuki’s head, and idly rubbed his hand up and down his arm through the blanket. The rhythm of it becoming so steady that Kyo almost felt his eyes start to droop.

“How do you know how to do this?” Yuki asked, voice still weak.

Kyo hummed sleepily, “used to get them a lot.”

“Panic attacks?” Yuki asked. Then, “You?”

“Yeah, me,” Kyo rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid, mostly. They still happen sometimes, I guess.”

Kyo felt Yuki’s hand come up to his leg, his finger sketching idle patterns on his bent knee. “I had no idea. You don’t seem the kind.”

“Shishou taught me how to handle them,” Kyo said. “I kept it quiet.”

“I wish someone had taught me that a lot sooner,” Yuki said, and Kyo could feel the smile in his words. Something in his chest relaxed that he didn’t even know was tensed.

“Did you— _Do_ you get them a lot?” Kyo asked.

“More than I’d like,” Yuki sighed. “It hasn’t happened in a while.”

Kyo discarded the affection clear in Yuki’s voice as a ripple of cold dread made its way through Kyo’s body.

“I didn’t—” Kyo cut himself off with a gruff sigh. “I didn’t do that to you, did I?”

For what felt like the first time all night, Yuki looked up at him. He adjusted himself so that their legs tangled together, and so that their shoulders bumped as if a corner in a wall. Yuki grabbed Kyo’s hands and pulled them onto his lap, under the comfort of the blanket.

“If I got an attack every time we had a fight, I don’t think I’d be alive,” Yuki teased.

Kyo rolled his eyes, “Seriously.” Yuki let his expression soften, reading the room.

“You didn’t,” Yuki said. “But, honestly, you acting like an idiot didn’t help.”

Kyo shifted, uncomfortable, and a little guilty, but didn’t respond. The question still hung in the air, and Yuki finally sighed when he realized Kyo was waiting for him to answer the unspoken question.

“Sometimes,” Yuki started, words struggling to form. “Sometimes… that color can be troubling. For me.”

“Black?” Kyo asked, absently. A light bulb went off in Kyo’s head. “The funeral.”

“Yes,” Yuki hesitantly admitted. “There was… An incident. When I was a kid. With Akito,” Yuki let out a heavy breath, and clutched Kyo’s hands tighter. “It feels ridiculous to still be effected by it.”

Kyo squeezed back, letting Yuki know he could hold his hands as hard as he needed.

“Well, seeing my family is stressful enough. I suppose that didn’t help, either. And crowds aren’t particularly my favorite thing,” Yuki groaned, but smiled when he looked up at Kyo. “And then you insisted on making an ass out of yourself.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Kyo said petulantly. He could feel himself pouting and he hated it, but then Yuki’s forehead was gently pressing against his.

“So what’s this about? You’re jealous of Haru?”

“Who’d be jealous of that psycho,” Kyo said, softly.

Yuki let out a relaxed sigh when Kyo didn’t pull away from him. “I get jealous sometimes, too.”

“Of what?” Kyo said, confusion seeping into his voice.

Yuki swallowed, sounding ashamed of himself when he bashfully admitted, “Tohru.”

Kyo blinked, still not understanding, “she’s a girl.”

“She’s your friend,” Yuki said, sitting back so that he could look at Kyo. “I want to be that, too.”

Kyo looked at Yuki, wanting to respond but not knowing how. Isn’t that what Kyo wanted to? Isn’t that what he was going to ask Yuki for? Right now, Yuki was sitting scrunched against Kyo, looking at him like he was the only thing in the world, and this time everything Kyo wanted to say was lost for a different reason. Pussyfooting around the issue now had Kyo feeling embarrassed and stupid.

Which usually presented itself in Kyo being more commanding than he actually felt.

“Leave some of your clothes here.”

Yuki gave him a confused smile, “What?”

“Stop leaving in the mornings.”

Yuki stared at him, mouth hanging open as if he was being winded all over again. “I… I have to go to classes eventually.”

Kyo wanted to smack his stupid fucking perfect face. “You know what I mean, you shit.”

Yuki groaned a strained laugh as he let his head fall forward onto Kyo’s shoulder. Yuki’s hands were still clasped around him and starting to feel clammy, but Kyo found he didn’t mind.

“That won’t bother you?” Yuki said so quietly, he wondered if he even intended for Kyo to hear.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kyo asked, feeling his defenses flare for some reason. Yuki let out an undignified snort.

“I definitely can’t see you having a panic attack,” Yuki said. “You’re so direct.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yuki stayed quiet for a moment, adjusting himself so that he was resting fully against Kyo now. “You’re honest about what you’re thinking. If you have something to say, you say it.”

Kyo felt a ripple of guilt course through him, “I dunno what that has to do with getting a panic attack.”

“You don’t let it rot inside you,” Yuki said, sighing. “I like that about you.”

“I’m not some mental patient, you know. I don’t say everything that’s on my mind all the damn time.”

“No, I know,” Yuki said with a small laugh. “It’s hard to explain. I was hoping you would just take the compliment.”

Kyo dislodged one of his hands from Yuki’s grip and wrapped it around him instead, letting the fingers crawl up into Yuki’s hair. Kyo gave a long, annoyed sigh before finally letting the words dislodge from my throat.

“First night at Shigure’s house.”

Yuki didn’t response for a second, looking up at Kyo before realization hit him, “You’re kidding me.”

Kyo shifted under Yuki’s weight, clearly uncomfortable, “I’d never lived with anyone other than Shishou. There was a girl in the house, Shigure’s a prick. _You_ were there. And I had no idea when Shishou was coming back. It fucked me up.”

In a weird way, Kyo expected Yuki to laugh at him—even if it was light-hearted, or completely lacking malice. Kyo even winced just thinking about it. But instead, Yuki looked at him as though his heart was breaking. He looked at him as if, despite being pressed against Kyo like they were zipped together, as if he couldn’t comprehend anything other than loneliness.

As if he could see Kyo, alone in Shigure’s library, doing those same breathing exercises all night long, trying to keep his breathing as quiet as possible. With Yuki right across the hall.

Yuki shifted himself, his hands finally emerging from his lap to wrap around Kyo, and the added weight had them easing themselves onto the ground. Yuki grabbed the edge of the blanket that Kyo wrapped around him and adjusted it so that it covered both of them.

They laid there on the living room floor, dim, warm light from the lamp washing over them, with the sound of rain falling evenly outside.

“This is not comfortable,” Kyo said, rubbing Yuki’s arm again. It was Yuki’s turn to bring his hand up to Kyo’s hair, letting it comb in and out in lazy motions.

“Just for a second,” Yuki said. Kyo was too tired to protest.

The last thing Kyo felt were Yuki’s warm lips pressing briefly on the underside of his jaw before he fell back into a deep sleep.

 

———————

 

The first thing Kyo saw were Yuki’s eyes.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be early. Sunlight was pouring through the window into the apartment, but it still felt fresh and new. Almost like snow with how peaceful the sun rested in the wake of a nighttime storm.

Kyo’s shoulders ached from sleeping on the tatami without a futon, but he couldn’t bring it in him to move as he came to consciousness.

Yuki was still connected to him, but hovered over him, unabashedly staring down at him. Observing him completely, as if he were a piece of art in a museum.

Kyo blinked up at him, but didn’t say anything, instead just staring back. Letting his eyes wander to the darkened skin under Yuki’s eyes and wondering if he got any sleep at all.

Yuki smiled when Kyo looked up at him, and his pale thumb came up to gently rub against his chapped bottom lip.

“I love you.”

It was quiet. But it was direct. Yuki’s breathing was even and still, far and away from what it was the night before. That composure was back, but it wasn’t forced. It was sure and confident.

Yuki was sure and confident.

“I love you,” Yuki whispered again.

Kyo laid there, looking up at him, probably staring like an idiot, paralyzed from the words. Yuki smiled at him again, and Kyo’s body snapped awake. He grabbed Yuki’s wrist, pushing his hand out of the way of Kyo’s mouth so that he could surge up and place Yuki’s lips there instead.

He kissed him. Deep and slow and careful and intimate. His shoulders protesting every shift of movement as he did, but Kyo couldn’t stop. Not with Yuki kissing him back as if he were drinking every inch of Kyo’s mouth.

It was definitely Kyo’s favorite kiss so far, but he couldn’t help but think:

_Damn, he beat me._

Kyo would say it, too. Not now. But he would. Not because he didn’t feel the same way, he was sure Yuki knew that by the way Kyo’s hand clasped the back of Yuki’s neck, keeping him cemented against him. By the way his other hand intertwined with Yuki’s fingers, as if that’s where they were always meant to be.

But because, right now, Yuki was trying to tell him something. And Kyo wanted to listen. Kyo was sure that sometime soon those same words would take root in his stomach and sprout up his throat and out onto his tongue and teeth. He was sure it would happen soon. He could already feel the vines of it creeping up his ribs like ivy.

Like Yuki said, when he wanted to say something, he would say it.

And this time, he wouldn’t hold back.

**Author's Note:**

> The technique Kyo uses is called Nogare breathing and is used in meditation and martial arts :)


End file.
